The Limits of Gnomes

It is
supply and demand, and
the chain,

all the way
to the Suez Canal
and back again,

or not,
depending on hope ever being
green again.

There is a
shortage in raw materials
but not puns

or irony: all those
rosy-cheeked lockdown smiles
lost in their

fairy-tale diminishing,
or not. A nation that needs to
deal with things

also needs the
alchemy of familiars,
that fishing or

pissing in gardens
like the sound as normalcy
of a night outside.

Seating is depleted
too – nowhere new to sit as we
watch and wait

for the blockages and
virus to subside, turn diminution
into the magical.


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